Different Strokes
by AngelicToast
Summary: ...for different folks. Worth has his own ways of getting himself off. mild swearing. Masturbation. Blood.


Worth's breath came out in an uneven hiss, one fist clutching at the shard of broken glass, and the other gripping at his own shaft. His head rolled back, throat making strange inaudible moans, forcing out tiny mumbled curse words under his breath. The pulse that emitted from the considerable wound in his hand seemed to match up rhythmically to the throbbing of his manhood clutched in his other. " 'oly fck..." his eyes squinted closed, blurred blackness and strange white shapes taking form in front of his eyes before he reopened them with a hitched gasp, the bright light of his office now blinding him all of a sudden.

Then a tiny shattering sound from his hand caught his attention, he glanced to his hand and opened it, the single shard of glass now split into three, "fer fcksake..." he dropped all three shards to the desk top and stopped all that he was doing, thinking for a moment. He glanced down at the hardened appendage between his legs and then back to his bleeding palm. A grin, and an idea. He switched his hands, and continued stroking, an even more pleased and erotic groan falling from chapped and dry lips. The sensation was nearly unbearable, the blood provided for a bit of extra lubricant, and the skin of his shaft provided for interesting friction against the slice in his palm. His grin spread and he chuckled in the most satisfied manner ever imaginable. And a chuckle followed, and his head tilted back again, eyes closing to enjoy the sensation even more. He rocked his hips into his hand, squeezing and stroking, even going so far as to tease himself by barely grazing the sensitive tip of his length, coaxing out what may have been considered a whimper from the man's lips. He bit down on a chapped bit of his lip, tugging on it with his teeth so that the tearing of the skin brought a bit of blood into his mouth. "f-fuck..." he sucked on the wound and bit around it to urge more blood to trickle into his mouth and down his chin.

He was close, the sharp feeling of pain and pleasure mixing with each other, blurring the line between thw two so that there was only the insurmountable feeling of pure ecstasy. His hand sped up, squeezed at the the base, stroked at the tip, he didn't know how much more he could take before he exploded. He wanted to test his limits though, pain himself mentally as well as physically, stress his sex drive to the point of bursting. Oh goddamn. He jerked his body forward, leaning himself onto his desk, free fist slamming against the hard surface as his forehead simultaneously mimicked the action. His chair slid back with the movement and his legs tensed up, body beginning to quiver with the oncoming orgasm that he couldn't ignore or neglect any longer. Luce's breath came out in pants, he could feel his heart drumming against the inside of his ribcage, excited, eager. He let himself get taken over by it, hand moving freely along his length, squeezing, squeezing, and releasing the grip, stroking. He bit his lip, oh god, how it stung to bit his lip but it hurt so fucking good, and the pre-cum that drizzled down the sides of his shaft mixed with the blood on his hand and the wound in his palm, and oh my fucking God!

His body jerked all the way back into the chair, body tensing for only that brief moment until everything in him relaxed and he spilled out into his hand and onto his desk and floor. He continued stroking himself even after, torturing the sensitive flesh with aftermath touches. He finally forced his hand off of himself and looked down at the mess, his hand was covered in a combination of jizz and blood-a mixture that was all to common to him by this point- as well as his desk and his floor. He gave a satisfied smirk at his handiwork and ran his clean(er) hand through his hair, leaning back to relax. His coat pocket provided him with easy access to a cigarette and a lighter which he promptly placed between his lips and planned to enjoy thoroughly. He stuffed himself back in his pants but didn't particularly care enough to zip them up as he propped his legs up on his desk, sucking the sweet taste of nicotine into his lungs.


End file.
